ied to Doge Zeno, whose
face, wrinkled as a yellow raisin, turned in Simon's direction.

"Serenity!" Simon called, using the customary form of address for the
doge. "It is my duty to guard these ambassadors."

Sordello, at Simon's elbow, said in a low voice, "You are a great lord
in your own land, Your Signory, but it would be best if you did not
arouse the wrath of the doge of Venice."

"Be still," Simon snapped.

Helmeted archers moved in on Simon from all sides, but Simon saw the
doge give an abrupt hand signal to their capitano. At a shouted order
from the capitano, the men-at-arms fell back, letting Simon through.

"Why do you disturb our ceremonies, young count?" The doge's voice was a
hoarse whisper. He smiled faintly, but his eyes were cold as winter.
Simon felt painfully embarrassed. The ruler of the mightiest city on the
Middle Sea was, after all, as puissant as any king on earth.

Simon fell to one knee before the doge. "Forgive me, Serenity. I only
wish to aid you in protecting the emissaries from Tartary, as my king
has commanded me." His knees trembled, and he felt as if his heart were
hammering hard enough to break his ribs.

The smile faded and the aged eyes grew icier. "Does the Frankish count
think Venice too feeble to protect her distinguished visitors?"

"Not at all, Serenity," said Simon hastily. "Only let me add my strength
to yours."

"Say no more," said the doge in a voice as sharp as a dagger.

By now the two Tartars had descended the ramp and were standing before
the doge. For a moment Simon's eyes met those of the white-bearded
Tartar, and he felt a new, inexplicable, and powerful fear. He took a
step backward, almost as if he had been struck a physical blow, and he
gripped his sword hilt for reassurance.

The Tartar turned his gaze to the doge, and Simon's fear faded, leaving
him to wonder what there was in this little brown-skinned man to inspire
it. What he had seen in those eyes? A hardness, a gaze as empty of
concern for Simon de Gobignon as the cloudless blue sky overhead.

The friar said, "Serenity, this is John Chagan Noyon," indicating the
older Tartar. "A noyon among the Tartars is equal in rank to a prince in
our lands. The Khan Hulagu sends you a prince to show how earnestly he
wishes to ally himself with Christendom to destroy our mutual enemies,
the Muslims. This other gentleman is Philip Uzbek Baghadur. 'Baghadur'
means valiant, and he is a tuman-bashi, a commander